


Stardust

by arklie



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: (brief) suicidal thoughts, M/M, i wrote this at 3am dont look at me, mentions of animal death, no beta we die like men, this started out relatively fluffy but it just descends from there and i apologize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arklie/pseuds/arklie
Summary: Alex Kralie is made of stardust—bright and gentle, shining despite what he lacked. He’d ramble on and on about the things only he can fully comprehend with the galaxy in his eyes.He’s made of stardust, but even the stars aren’t eternal.





	Stardust

He’s made of stardust.

You don’t consider yourself the sappy kind, but since the first time you saw him in his audition Brian had brought you to, since you sat on that chair and read the (awful, you have to admit) script that he had proudly wrote, something in his eyes caught your attention.

There are stars in the deep brown of his, glimmering all brightly as he watched Brian and you auditioned for his second movie. You can tell that he must be excited for it—who wouldn’t be? Bringing your creations to life for the joy and entertainment of others and your own. You have private stories you had written yourself that you’re too embarrassed of to even show to anyone but your best friend.

You notice it’s more than that, too. The stars are not only innocent passion, you recognize that some are dimmer, blinking much brighter once he caught the sight of his best friend, of Brian, like he was a well in the middle of a desert, a center of his little world. You know it all too well.

He’s lonely.

Brian, the angel he’s always been, waters him with affection and friendship and all kind of good that is himself to the director, letting him bloom with his head to the sunlight.

That sympathy is perhaps the only thing that keeps you helping him for his movie, and how passionate he is about it. You wouldn’t want to break his heart.

You’d be lying if you don’t enjoy the way he’d fill up the space and make useless gestures in the air as he explains every bits and details of the movie, the wide grin plastered on his face accompanying his enthusiastic voice. The way he’d stutter and lose his words when he got particularly excited about his favourite parts, clicking his fingers with his lips thin in an attempt to form coherent words. How he’d sheepishly thank Jay everytime he’d helped him through the sentences.

His stars become your own, and before you realize it, he’s asleep on top of you, huddled close on his couch, in the warmth of his home. His heart beats against your chest, his soft, steady breaths against your neck, and you hold him closer, burying your face to his shoulder, a dreamless sleep awaits you.

You wake up to the sound of him hitting the floor, and you’re too out of it to do anything but groggily laugh at him. He flips himself, now on his back, and he looks at you with a severe betrayed look that could make a kitten cry. You know he wouldn’t drop that face until you make him some coffee—so you do.

It’s nothing more than that. Just casual talk and casual touch and casual kisses between classes, between shoots, between the things in life that keep the both of you busy. There were never any declarations, any words, just silent acts and tender looks.

Time slips between your fingers like sand. Just like how it had started, it ends before you realize it.

You don’t know what drift him away, what set him off like a bomb for him to explode as much as he did before he disappeared from your life, from everyone else’s. You’d thought he was just stressed from his double major, his film, and the passing of his dog. A person could only take so much at once.

You know him. He’s not the explosive kind, not _that_ way. Everytime he’d gotten frustrated so much that he’d screamed and shouted, his voice would crack, and tears would fall down his tired face. More often than not, all it’d take to calm him down is some quiet time and an embrace. Even then, he’d be more likely to sob quietly than even raise his voice.

You wonder what changed him, but you don’t let it get to you. You’re all too familiar with how good things end as soon as they started in your life. Soon enough, you graduate from college, and you forget—about the stupid university and the stupid classes and the stupid student film. And you forget about him.

Leaving things behind is the one good thing you’re good at.

You were doing fine, but then that Jay just _had_ to come to _your_ life, practically dragging you by the ankle to _his_ mess that _he_ created himself. Time keeps pouring down like rain, flowing through the rivers without anyone being able to do anything about it, and Jay keeps recording like his life depends on it.

Then you think it’s ironic, if it wasn’t for his obsession, maybe he’d still be with you.

(Or maybe if it wasn’t for you.)

You’d destroyed everything you touch. The movie crew, Jay, your best friend _in your own hands_ , and now your home. You didn’t watch as it burned down to ashes, you’d be dead if you did, which doesn’t sound so bad now that you think about it.

Maybe you should’ve listened—should’ve burned to death like he’d told you to.

But you’ve had enough. You’ve had enough of this, had enough of all the things that had happened, of the blame, the hurt, the loss you had to endure. Enough of everything beyond your control.

So you pray to the nameless deities you don’t believe in. _Let me fix this one_ , you say. _Please, just this once._

He’s made of stardust, but even the stars aren’t eternal. In time, they will expand and consume everything in their way, leaving behind a path of destruction before their light fades out for good, only a black mass of nothingness remains.

 

 

Alex Kralie was made of stardust—bright and gentle, shining despite what he lacked. He’d smile at strangers and laugh at their jokes with all his heart, even if they’d never return it. He’d ramble on and on about the things only he can fully comprehend with the galaxy in his eyes. He’d wrap your arms around you as a form of greeting, as comfort, to you and him both, to keep you warm in the middle of the cold that is life.

Not any warmer than his blood on your skin, on your face, shaking you to your core like it had burned you to the bone. You hear nothing through your distress but his frail gasps as he chokes on his own blood.

You taste the rust, too.

You fight against the tremors to get back on your feet, using the wall as support, only turning your back when you hear him painstakingly speaks— _“This isn’t over.”_ You hear the desperation in his voice, and despite the circumstances, the tiniest bit of hope sparks to your chest, that the person you once know might still be there.

Then you hear what he had to say, and he disappeared just as you blinked, leaving behind a warm pool of blood.

Your chest freezes over, and the realization hits you—he’d died long before you killed him.

 

 

Alex Kralie was made of stardust—sunny and sweet, condemned to be his own doom.

And just always out of your reach.


End file.
